


Disruption

by Why Am I The Witness (PoisonedDeath)



Category: Rent - Larson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2015-12-01
Packaged: 2018-05-04 07:01:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5324894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoisonedDeath/pseuds/Why%20Am%20I%20The%20Witness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had been a peaceful year for most.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Disruption

It had been a peaceful year for most. The fall turned to winter with grace, the leaves becoming frozen teardrops that dripped from Mark’s eyes. He removed his glasses again, clumsily pressing his free palm into each eye before returning the plain frames to his face. He no longer carried a camera, no longer filmed each and every memory. There seemed to be no point now – his friends had slowly danced away, one by one, and he’d buried most of them. Joanne and Maureen had long since stopped lingering in Alphabet City, and when Roger breathed his last, Mark’s heart shattered a thousand times over. The fragments were still scattered, sharp as thorns in his empty chest, and the memories only served to make him flinch. He’d jump away, as if the mere thought of his dearly departed friends’ faces would burn him from the inside and break him down. He wasn’t even certain that there was enough of him left to break, but he was fearful of taking that chance, just in case.

  
The winter air was dancing around the young strawberry blond haired man, and he wrapped his arms tight around his own body in a desperate attempt to keep warm. He was too poor to afford a new coat, and was simply waiting for an eviction notice from the loft. He wanted to stay there – that was where his family, as he viewed them, had lived. He’d always been sentimental, but no one had realised. No one had figured out that that had been what had driven his obsessive filming. On the inside, Mark Cohen was a mess, but to the naked eye he would seem to be a stoic loner. Mark had no idea how he managed to appear stoic as often as he did - Roger’s death had allowed him to feel the emotions he’d distanced himself from for so long, and they hit him time and time again like a high-speed train. He would find himself exploding, fighting to keep these emotions inside, but there was no dam strong enough to hold it in. It would run riot until there was nothing left, until Mark was exhausted and void of anything – a shell.

  
It had been a peaceful year for most, but not for Mark Cohen. Mark Cohen knew that he would never know another peaceful year again.


End file.
